In a Mirror, Darkly
by Mortalus
Summary: When Uhura, Spock, and Kirk land on Kronos, they lose to the Klingons. Major character deaths. Eventual Kirk/Khan slash. Based off a prompt from the Star Trek: Into Darkness kink meme. Rating will go up.
1. Chapter 1

**The prompt:** When Uhura, Spock, and Kirk land on Kronos, they lose to the Klingons. Uhura and Spock are both killed before Khan comes to their rescue. Kirk is badly injured, but Khan saves his life to find out more about the missiles. Meanwhile, Admiral Marcus has caught up to the Enterprise and destroyed it, after taking all the cryo-tubed torpedos. Khan exposes the horrible truth to Kirk, who then sides with Khan in his bid to destroy/take over Starfleet.

**Caveat #1:** This story is inspired by the prompt's premise but may diverge a little from the desired kinks. Regardless, the rating will increase.

**Caveat #2:** I am busy and addicted to editing. I will finish this, but it may take some time.

* * *

He picked up his gun and scanned the area. All threats eliminated, but with them went the ones he'd wanted alive. Amid the Klingon bodies he saw the corpse of a human female with her throat slit from ear to ear. A Vulcan male, sliced almost in half by a bat'leth, lay a few meters away.

A sloppy job. The shuttle's crew would prove little use to him dead.

But he knew he'd saved one.

He found the human male behind a pillar he must have crawled to, his face pressed in the dirt, lying still but surely alive. Khan had shot the Klingon before its fatal blow could crack this one's skull.

He flipped the man over.

The man moaned. His brow fixed in a frown, his breathing came in harsh hisses, and his eyes pressed shut.

Khan understood the look of agony as it rang through a man's body. He noticed blood on his gloved hands when he withdrew them. He scowled at the man – a sloppy job on both their parts.

Frustration gripped Khan at this new setback, but only for a moment. He calmed his mind with a single long breath. He stood and observed the man's broken but recoverable form. What move should he make now?

He could go to the shuttle, set up a channel to the starship, and demand to know more about the torpedoes they'd used to threaten him. And he could use this man's life as leverage, if the captain had a sentimental attachment to the human who remained alive.

Khan rejected that plan. He could not count on Captain Hikaru Sulu to care for his crew as much as Khan did for his own. Few inferior men held such loyalty. The captain could just as likely shoot the torpedoes at him after this botched attempt at a capture.

Khan wondered if he should commandeer the shuttle instead and take flight to the _Enterprise _with claims of surrender_. _But with two of the starship's crew dead, and with Khan's reputation, would the fair-minded captain remain amenable or claim revenge?

He scowled in disgust as he realized he could not take such a risk with his crew at stake. He did not _know _this captain. He could not anticipate how best to mold the man's actions to suit Khan's own purpose. If only he'd looked the _Enterprise's_ captain in the eye, even for a moment, he could get the measure of him.

Khan lacked the knowledge he needed to proceed with his plans. Prudence demanded that he keep this broken man alive to learn more about the torpedoes and to secure passage to the _Enterprise_ if required.

With this goal fixed in mind, Khan went to work.

* * *

**Note: **Why does Khan think Sulu is captain? Because Sulu introduced himself as captain in his warning message. Poor unfortunate Khan is reasonably confused.


	2. Chapter 2

Kirk woke with a throbbing head and his pulse thumping in his ears. The pain in his right side surged from dull to sharp as his mind cleared. He had the notion that something foreign steeped in his blood, and not alcohol for once – or perhaps not enough alcohol?

What had he done? Where had he ended up?

A long, sharp face topped by dark hair moved toward him. The man observed him with cold, dark eyes.

In a rush of clarity, he recognized the man as John Harrison.

Fresh blood rushed into his head. Hatred filled the void left by confusion. "You."

"How many torpedoes are there?"

Harrison leaned in, but Kirk's mouth was too dry to spit. "Go to hell," he said.

A hand closed around his throat. He grabbed Harrison's wrist and yanked it, but his arm seemed immovable. Kirk struggled to breathe.

"How many torpedoes?" His grip loosened, and Kirk gasped for air.

"Enough," Kirk said. Harrison tightened his hand. Kirk writhed and pried at his fingers, but the man stayed steady as stone.

"How many?"

Kirk's lungs burned. His vision filled with spots. His struggles weakened.

Harrison's pale face and cold gaze were the last things Kirk would see.

Then Harrison eased his grip again.

Relief overwhelmed him. What did it matter if Harrison knew? "Seventy-two."

Harrison released his hold and backed away.

Kirk heaved and coughed. He cursed himself for his weakness. How could he let a terrorist best him? He found Harrison even more despicable for his effective interrogation. But let him try to outrun seventy-two torpedoes. They had the scumbag cornered.

"I surrender," Harrison said.

The lack of resistance took Kirk by surprise, and he resented it. Even his surrender seemed like a power play. But what else had he expected? He had Harrison captured as planned, and Harrison just acknowledged it.

He pushed himself to his feet in one quick movement. The pang in his side made him regret it. Kirk realized he'd lost his shirt; it lay bloodied on the shuttle floor. Someone had cleaned, stitched and bandaged his injury. He touched his head – a sore cut there had received the same treatment. The shuttle had moved somewhere even darker, but the grim setting still looked like Kronos.

His throat ached. He struggled to speak. "I accept your surrender. Now where's my crew?"

Harrison paused. "The others are dead."

"Bullshit. Where are they?"

"They lie where they fell. I couldn't spare the time to bring their bodies."

Fury propelled Kirk forward. He stalked toward Harrison until a few inches separated them. "You are a liar. You are a criminal."

Their eyes met. Harrison's expressionless brow twitched. Kirk remembered the glare they'd shared on Earth. He knew that Harrison remembered it too in that moment.

"First officer?"

"Captain. Captain James T. Kirk."

"Captain."

Harrison said that word as if he savored it. Kirk didn't like it one bit. Their closeness made him uncomfortable, but taking a step back would be a victory for this bastard. "I will ask you one more time, and you will tell me the truth." He let the implicit threat hang for a beat. "Where is my crew?"

"You don't remember, Captain?"

Dread tingled in his mind. He'd forgotten something. His stomach dropped as he realized he didn't want to remember. "Remember what?"

"You were still conscious when they killed the woman. She fell before you came out shooting."

Bile rose in Kirk's throat. He swallowed it. He stepped away and steadied himself against a console. Tears came to his eyes. God, Uhura. He remembered now. He'd shouted in rage as he shot down the Klingon who'd killed her. He'd heard Spock's animalistic howl after he turned over her body and saw her dead eyes. The memories echoed in the chamber of his skull.

"And the others?"

"They were killed in battle. You were the only survivor, aside from me."

Lies. He couldn't trust the words of this traitor. But he remembered Spock fall to a Klingon's blade and choked on his breath. One of the Klingons had knocked Kirk's weapon out of his hand. Then he'd punched Kirk to the ground. He'd landed hard. Before he could move, another blow had hurtled toward him.

"God." His chest shook with the effort to hold back his grief. He pressed his hands to his face and embraced the pain from his head wound as he disturbed it. Spock was dead, Uhura was dead, and the other two from the shuttle. He'd failed them all. The bulk of all his disappointments and resentments before Starfleet surged and crashed into him, joined by every failure since. Kirk fell to one knee from the weight of it on his soul. His tears threatened to spill.

No, he could _not_ let himself break down now. Not in front of Harrison. He swallowed back his despair, pushed it under until he could rage alone. He saw Harrison examine him.

"Captain."

Kirk heard pity in the word this time.

His fist smashed into Harrison's face before he realized he'd thrown the punch.


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks again for everyone's encouragement! It's good to know you're enjoying this rather angsty alternate tale.

* * *

Khan approved of the form of the captain's strikes, though they lacked the force to bother him. Here stood a man who had punched many jaws before – a curious history in this so-called civilized age.

He took another blow with ease. The captain ran out of strength. He clutched his knee with one hand and his sore side with the other. He didn't know how deep that wound had gone, how much blood he'd lost before Khan saved him.

Captain James T Kirk: a panting wreck of a man, but clever enough to engineer the destruction of Khan's chopper and noble enough to fly to Kronos to capture him instead of launching torpedoes. His eyes sparked and fists flew with passion despite the morals and inferior genetics that held him back from greatness.

Khan would have enjoyed toying with him under less dire circumstances.

But he had no time for Kirk's ire now. He needed to reach the _Enterprise_, and soon.

"We should leave before the Klingons find this ship again, Captain."

Kirk glowered at him while he continued to catch his breath. Khan wondered how long that would take. Their schedule tightened by the moment and had little to do with the Klingons.

Finally the captain rose. He pushed Khan face-first into one of the bulkheads, and Khan allowed it. Handcuffs snapped around his wrists. Starfleet standard; he could break them with ease if needed.

Kirk strapped him into a seat in the back of the shuttle. Khan allowed that too.

With nothing of import to do, Khan shut his eyes and listened as the engine switched back to primary power. It buzzed as the shuttle glided out of the crevasse he'd hidden them in. They broke through the atmosphere into the blackness of space.

Their quiet flight did not last long. Within minutes, they confronted battle – no, slaughter.

The U.S.S._ Vengeance _had unleashed its arsenal on the _Enterprise_.

Marcus moved faster than Khan had hoped. Some idiot must have sent a report to Starfleet. Of course Marcus came running when he realized they intended to capture him instead of kill him.

Time for another change of plans.

"What the hell?" said Kirk. "_Enterprise_, this is Kirk! Can you hear me? What's your status?"

Khan knew their status: doomed. Surely Marcus had beamed the torpedoes to the _Vengeance _already – likely with the full cooperation of the _Enterprise's _crew before he turned on them. And once he finished with the _Enterprise_, he would fire the torpedoes and the men and women within them.

Khan could not let that happen. He had to board the _Vengeance._

And for that, he needed the _Enterprise._

He set about breaking the handcuffs.

A voice crackled over the comm. _"— attack — Marcus, Captain! Shields — and losing power."_

"You're breaking up, Sulu! Just beam me over and –"

"You can't help them from the ship."

Kirk ignored him. "Sulu, come in!"

"Ignore me at your peril. I designed that ship, Captain."

Kirk finally tore his eyes from the sight of the _Vengeance _carving through his ship. "If you can help, then help."

He tossed off the handcuffs and took the seat to Kirk's left. "Tell them to fire everything at the starboard docking port."

"Why the docking port?"

Khan caught Kirk's gaze and held it with his force of will. "If you don't do what I say, your crew will be dead in moments."

He caught the desperation in Kirk's eyes. Good, Khan needed him desperate. Khan diverted power from the engines to strengthen their communications signal. "Now!"

"Kirk to _Enterprise_, target all weapons on the starboard docking port!"

"_Captain, are you sure —"_

"Just do it!"

After waiting long seconds, Khan saw the flash of the _Enterprise's_ weapons heading just where he needed them. The _Vengeance _absorbed the blows without flinching. But the algorithm controlling shield energy distribution around the _Vengeance_ deprioritized the docking port in a combat situation.

For two seconds, the shields in that area would stay weak enough for Khan to send a signal through. His fingers moved faster on the console than any normal man's.

Khan would never design a ship without leaving himself back doors. Not all of them had survived design reviews, but he needed only one.

The starboard section of the _Vengeance's_ shields fell.

"Head for the docking port," he said. He needn't have bothered; Kirk had already diverted power back to the shuttle's engines and set the proper course, full speed ahead. Not a complete fool.

The _Vengeance _continued to fire on the _Enterprise_.

"— _Captain —"_

"Just hang on, I'm going to —"

The _Enterprise's_ frame burst open at every seam as it exploded in an enormous ball of flame. The sudden end to its gradual destruction startled even Khan – but he'd known from the moment he saw the _Vengeance _that the _Enterprise _would founder.

Khan had told Kirk that his crew would die if he did not listen.

He never said they would live if Kirk did.

Kirk's scream rang through the shuttle as they docked.


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks again for your support, dear readers. Gird yourselves for yet more angst!

* * *

Kirk's throat felt raw. That single, physical sensation became his focus. The soreness pulsed as he breathed.

Everything else seemed distant. He saw himself sit at the head of a shuttle and stare into darkness.

He swallowed, and it burned.

A voice formed words, but the thick fog around Kirk consumed them. A hand gripped his shoulder. A face spun into view.

"We need to go," the man said. Kirk knew that face – Harrison – but couldn't bring himself to care.

Harrison popped the clasp on Kirk's seat belt.

Kirk blinked. He couldn't feel anything. Even his blood seemed still.

"You can stay here and die, or you can claim vengeance for your lost crew. Your choice, Captain."

Kirk knew that he had to stand, so he did, though he could not process _why_. The edges of that thought threatened to swallow him, so he glided away from it. He followed Harrison to the hatch and took a phaser when he offered it.

A clamor of phaser fire greeted them when the hatch opened.

Kirk followed his instincts. Breathing came easier as he fought. Between him and Harrison, they got all of their welcoming party disarmed and down before long,

They sprinted into a narrow set of corridors. The enemy had set ambushes. The confrontation turned into a fistfight.

Kirk found that more satisfying than phasers. His blood pumped again. His knuckles cracked into an opponent's temple, and he experienced a sudden burst of thought.

His crew was dead.

He roared through his teeth and whacked the same man again, under the jaw. He went down.

The fallen body revealed Harrison observing him. The number of men sprawled around them – but especially around Harrison – seemed impossible. In that moment, Kirk realized that they were two men going up against the entire crew of a starship and somehow _winning. _And he had no idea where this ship had come from or who it belonged to.

Anxiety tightened his chest. His crew was dead. And he had no goddamn idea what was happening.

Harrison stalked away, no doubt toward their next fight with mystery men aboard this enormous, murderous starship.

"Hold up," Kirk said.

Harrison paused and turned around. He raised his eyebrows just a tick.

Kirk hardly knew where to start. "What the hell is going on here? Who are these people?"

"This is not the time. We need to reach the bridge."

Now that Kirk had experienced his first taste of righteous fury, it spread through his blood like wildfire. "Like hell it's not the time! Tell me where we are!"

"We are onboard the U.S.S. _Vengeance_, a prototype starship designed for war. Your Admiral Marcus is in command. He destroyed your ship, murdered your crew and intends the same fate for us and –" he paused "– for others who are known to me."

This new information swam in Kirk's skull for some moments before it could even start penetrating. He couldn't trust Harrison, but he had no one left to believe. "Admiral Marcus? But why?"

"You can ask him when we get to the bridge." Harrison turned around and moved briskly onward.

Kirk only paused a moment before following him. He wouldn't get more answers by standing around.

Besides, using his fists felt better than dwelling on questions.

But Kirk had few opponents to exert him. As the vanguard, Harrison took down most of them before Kirk even flexed his fists. He'd never seen a man who could fight like this. Even Spock –

His gut tightened at that reflection. Not the time. "Are you human?"

"Better than."

Kirk noticed that they'd reached the bridge and tamped down his questions. For now.

The doors opened. Harrison went to work on the remaining guards.

Kirk strode to the command platform. He punched a man in the gut and then on the jaw, and he kept punching until the man fell. His knuckles ached.

He looked toward the captain's chair. There stood Admiral Marcus.

The sight stunned Kirk despite Harrison's warning.

"Take one more step, either of you, and I'll detonate every single one of those photon torpedoes!" He seemed crazed, furious, and his hand hovered over his console.

Kirk did not understand anything. His gut wrenched with betrayal. He yearned for some explanation that would somehow bring his crew back. "What have you done, sir?"

"What have _you _done, Kirk? You were supposed to get rid of _him_!" He pointed madly at Harrison. "Instead I had to take matters into my own hands!"

Marcus's anger stimulated Kirk's. "You destroyed the _Enterprise_! You killed my crew! Why?"

"Because they were in my way. Now get back, or I'll blow this ship apart!"

"The torpedoes were onboard the _Enterprise_!" Kirk said.

"Your crew refused my direct order to fire them at Kronos, so I took them back by force. The _Enterprise _didn't stand a chance."

Marcus smirked. He _smirked _at the destruction of the _Enterprise_ and all the officerswho served aboard her.

Kirk stared at Marcus and knew hatred like he'd never known before. It boiled in his blood, tensed every muscle, and twisted his face with scorn.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kirk noticed Harrison take a careful step back. He bristled at the implication that he needed to reason with this scum to stop him from destroying this despicable ship.

Marcus's threat had no hold on him. Kirk should have died with the _Enterprise _and his crew. Marcus stole them from him, and he would gladly die with the admiral's throat seized in his hands.

He leapt at Marcus without another thought. The admiral's expression of surprise gratified him.

He distantly heard Harrison call out.

He saw Marcus's hand fall on the console.

The _Vengeance_ wailed in alarm as seventy-two torpedoes detonated within her.

* * *

**An aside:** The story of Marcus's encounter with the _Enterprise_ prior to Kirk's arrival will probably never be told given our two narrators.

You don't need to know, but if you're curious, here's my version of events:

Marcus warped in and demanded that Sulu fire the torpedoes at Kronos. Sulu protested that Kirk was still down there, and also that it's against Starfleet regulation to execute people without trial. Marcus said that Kirk had it coming for disobeying orders and that "Harrison" had it coming for, y'know, blowing people up. Marcus then ordered Sulu to give him the torpedoes if he's not going to fire them, because he outranks Sulu by a lot.

When Sulu continued to refuse (not being quite clever enough at captaining to tell Marcus "sure" and then fire up the warp drive a la Kirk, not that it helped much anyway), Marcus fired on the _Enterprise_, took down her shields and beamed the torpedoes back to his ship.

Then Carol Marcus told him she was aboard, he said "'kay, then I guess I'll beam you out of there", and that happened.

Then Marcus continued pounding the _Enterprise_ to space dust.

This somewhat conflicts with Khan's assumption in the last chapter that the _Enterprise_ probably just gave Marcus the torpedoes and then got betrayed, but Khan underestimated Sulu's resolve.


	5. Chapter 5

Everything Khan had done, he had done for his people.

Everything amounted to nothing now.

Despair crawled under his skin until he shook from the force of it. The _Vengeance_ roared and cracked around him, but the lost faces of his people troubled Khan. He saw their noses straight and crooked, their smiles quirked and broad. He saw the fierce sparks of life that had once enlivened their eyes, so long ago.

He remembered pressing his hands to the cold tubes that separated them. Before his escape from Starfleet, Khan had looked into each still face and pledged that he would return to set them free.

The promises tasted like ashes in his mouth.

The ship pitched. Khan steadied himself on a console. He looked up and saw Marcus and Kirk rolling into a wall. They grappled. Kirk won easily and struck blow after blow against Marcus.

The sight of the two men responsible for his grief drove Khan into a black rage.

Khan stalked steadily toward them despite the rocking chaos of the ship. He wrenched Kirk off Marcus's badly bleeding form and tossed him aside.

Marcus's life belonged to him.

Khan roared. The pain in his heart drove strength into his hands. He crushed the fragile bones of Marcus's skull and reveled in the man's howl of agony.

"You should have let me sleep," Khan said. He forced himself to live in this moment so he could remember every detail of Marcus's torment until it petered into gurgling blood, then silence.

It ended too soon and did nothing to erase his loss.

He turned to Kirk. Perhaps slower vengeance would satisfy Khan better.

Khan picked Kirk up by the collar with one curled fist. With the other, he punched him in the gut, hard. Kirk's eyes widened and his mouth gaped in pain.

Khan hit him again. He could pound Kirk's internal organs into putty. He could watch him gasp and bleed as he died.

Kirk did not fight back.

"Just kill me," Kirk said. His voice sounded dull and raspy, an odd counterpoint to the sirens that still wailed on the dying ship. "Do it, Harrison."

Harrison. He'd nearly forgotten that fiction. The man who'd murdered his crew didn't know his name. The absurdity of it punched a huff of outrage from his chest.

Kirk looked haggard and lost. He swung in Khan's grasp without struggle as a man with no purpose, a captain without his crew. He had lost all he loved, all the meaning from his past and all his hope for the future. Kirk hanged in the present as if in a noose.

Khan could relate.

"Do it."

The ship tipped. Kirk tumbled from Khan's grasp, and Khan fell to his knees. But Khan fixated on the look in Kirk's eyes, the despair that mirrored his and the will to die that naturally followed.

Khan yearned to join his crew again in death, to depart this age that gleamed like steel as it rotted at the core. But if he died here, who would avenge his crew? One mere Admiral Marcus did not pay for all their lives.

Everything Khan had done, he had done for his people.

If Khan died here, his remaining enemies would not endure the reflection of their pain.

He had to stop indulging his emotions and save the _Vengeance._

Kirk pushed himself to his hands and knees. Khan delivered a measured kick to his head – enough to knock him out, not sever his spine.

Sitting in the captain's chair of the _Vengeance _ought to feel like his rightful place. He'd intended to take command of her. But his crew ought to surround him as he guided the ship to victory. Now he was alone with only Kirk, and the _Vengeance _was as mortally wounded as his dreams.

Khan had priorities. Life support, stabilizers, guidance systems, impulse power. The Klingons would not have missed such heated conflict barely ensconced in the neutral zone between them and the Federation. The _Vengeance_ needed to move lest she sustain a final blow.

Stabilizing the ship took far too long. He needed to seal many decks, yet little power remained to put up barriers. Placing them became a delicate game. Time did not favor Khan's chances.

Khan guided thelimping ship deeper into the neutral zone. He knew the Klingons would reach them with ease. His steps so far merely prevented the ship from self-destructing and bought a few minutes to reach a decision.

Only one action could save the _Vengeance _from the Klingons – and herself.

Khan patched communications together as best he could and sent a distress signal to Starfleet.

Now he only had to wait and see which enemy fortune brought to him first.

He stood to leave the bridge – it would not help if either enemy discovered him there – when he remembered Kirk again. His bruised body lay still on the deck, alive despite his desire for death.

Khan felt a flare of hate for the destructive fool. He ought to cut this loose end. Kirk had long outlived his usefulness.

Khan looked outward from the _Vengeance _and saw cold, empty space. He hesitated.

He shut his eyes and heaved a breath in frustration. Emotions, impulses – where had these led him? Khan hadn't needed to take Kirk to the bridge. He had rationalized bringing him along, supposing – how wrongly! – that it couldn't hurt and might amuse him.

He'd liked the idea of turning one man of Starfleet against another to the doom of both. And he had thought Kirk deserved some justice before he joined his crew in death. Khan still could not ignore the pall that fell over Kirk when he lost his crew on Kronos, nor the scream of denial when the _Enterprise _died with her crew.

These displays had meant something to Khan despite his better judgement.

But Khan had always planned to kill the captain in the end. And why should he care about this inferior creature's misfortunes? Khan had seventy-two misfortunes of his own, caused by this same man.

He ought to kill him.

Yet when Khan opened his eyes, decision made, the blackness of space remained.

In truth, Khan did not fare well alone.

The pull of affinity for Kirk lingered against all sense. The loss of his people had cut open Khan's heart, left him despicably vulnerable to an infection of sentiment. Whatever Kirk's sins, they were bound together by mutual agony.

Khan hated Kirk, but he did not _simply _hate him.

So Khan rationalized. Perhaps killing a man who wanted to die would not work as revenge. Khan could use a plaything. If the Federation found the _Vengeance _first, then the next few months, before his new plan bore fruit, would likely prove dull.

If the Klingons found them first, the next few months would not occur.

He could always decide to kill Kirk later. Slowly.

This thought spurred Khan to action. He lifted Kirk off the deck and slung him over his shoulder.

Khan knew where he needed to go.


	6. Chapter 6

Sorry for the long wait. Life happened.

* * *

Kirk returned to disjointed consciousness. He lifted his eyelids, but the twinge in his head amplified into vice-like pressure, so he squeezed his eyes shut again.

He moaned. He wanted to sink back into sleep but couldn't. He tried to move, but his arms refused to cooperate, and his leg barely twitched.

But then the pain faded by degrees. After agonizing hours, or minutes, the pulsing pain receded. Kirk tried to open his eyes again. He saw a hand curled around his arm. Another held a vial of red fluid. A needle stung him and burned as the contents drove into his blood.

He couldn't see the man's face. He had a mop of unruly black hair. Not Bones.

The man looked toward him. Harrison. That should not surprise him, but he forgot why.

"What are you doing?" He could barely understand his own slurred words.

"Two concussions in one day, Captain." Harrison finished the injection in no hurry. "If not for me, you would have died on both occasions."

At the mention of death, Kirk's memory recovered in full, like the return of power to a subsystem.

He could weep. No, not Bones. Never Bones again.

"Why?" Why had he let down everyone he loved? Why didn't Harrison let him die? His crew were his heart, the _Enterprise_ his soul; why did his body live on?

Harrison set the needle down in a bloody but organized nest of medical supplies. "A pair of Federation ships came to reclaim the _Vengeance_. They towed her to the far side of the Klingon neutral zone to effect emergency repairs. After they stabilize the warp core and seal the critical hull damage, we will likely dock at a top-secret Federation facility on one of Jupiter's moons."

So they hadn't left the _Vengeance_. As a wanted man, wouldn't Harrison want to avoid Federation entanglements? Though he supposed they had nowhere else to go, trapped on a derelict ship near Klingon space.

The Klingons. Spock and Uhura. Behind his eyes, Kirk saw sharp blades extinguishing his friends, Sulu's final words, and the _Enterprise'_s violent end.

Kirk tried to rally the strength to give a damn about what happened next. This mission from hell started with bringing Harrison to justice. He should finish it in honor of his crew and then find a loud place to drink himself to death.

His own legal situation struck him: Starfleet would make him a wanted man if they found out he lived. Kirk had abetted a terrorist and assaulted an admiral. How could he ever bring himself to explain what had happened?

The thought of testifying before Starfleet Command on the loss of his ship made Kirk sick to his stomach. "Won't they find us?"

"We are in a minor Jefferies tube junction beside the impulse drive. The sensor nodes here are poorly positioned, so the impulse drive interferes with readings. They won't detect us."

The same cold, dark metal from the rest of the _Vengeance_ surrounded them. About ten square meters. It seemed larger than any junction on the _Enterprise._

Scotty's old, loving complaints about the Jeffries tubes on the _Enterprise _came to mind. Kirk flinched; would every memory of the past punch him in the gut?

Then he recalled that Scotty still lived because he'd refused to play along with this doomed mission. Shame lumped in Kirk's throat. Facing Scotty again would be many times worse than a trial by Starfleet.

Harrison had never answered his first question. Kirk decided to clarify it. "Why didn't you kill me?"

The look on Harrison's face made Kirk uneasy. He felt like prey.

"The _Vengeance _may dock for a year before she's repaired enough to commandeer, Captain. I must have some amusement."

If he had to choose between death and torture, he'd take death. Hell, he would take death anyway.

Maybe a few well-placed jabs could speed things along.

"You're no better than Marcus," Kirk said. He surprised himself with how much he meant it. Marcus's death had done nothing to extinguish his hatred. The horror had started with Harrison's first strike. "You are a coward who killed innocent people. If you keep me alive, I will find a way to end you."

Harrison landed on top of him, slamming the air out of his chest. He pressed Kirk's shoulders hard to the ground. Even in top form, Kirk doubted he could have shaken him off. Harrison had crushed Marcus's skull with his bare hands. Definitely not human.

"You think you can make me lose my temper and snuff out your miserable life. No, you deserve a much slower death than the one your stupidity gave my crew."

"_Your _crew? What are you talking about?"

"The torpedoes, Kirk. My crew were inside them."

Kirk's brain froze. "_What?_"

Harrison's dull fingertips dug into Kirk's shoulders. When Harrison spoke, his voice held deep anguish. "Seventy-two people in stasis. _My _people."

Tears swelled in the man's eyes. The _terrorist's _eyes.

Did Kirk truly have another seventy-two lives on his bloodied hands? Harrison had no reason to lie about it. Kirk couldn't imagine why anyone would put people inside weapons. Marcus must have known about it when he gave him the torpedoes. He bet Marcus did it for his perverted amusement.

"I'm sorry. I didn't know."

"Ignorance does not excuse your crime."

Kirk did not expect it to. He knew from experience what he would do to someone who murdered his crew.

They stared at each other while Harrison's breathing steadied. Kirk imagined Harrison's hands moving from his shoulders to his throat. Crushing his throat would prove far easier than crushing Marcus's skull.

Kirk could see the same thought behind Harrison's eyes.

He felt obligated to break the silence, to form some response – not to save himself, but to offer whatever inadequate condolence he could. However inadvertently he'd done it, the loss stood on his conscience now, though the pain it caused Kirk could not match the loss of the _Enterprise _and the souls aboard her. It only added a notch to them.

"All the same, I am sorry. I wouldn't wish that loss on anyone."

The pressure of Harrison's hands eased, though Kirk suspected it had less to do with forgiveness than with the bone-weariness that Kirk felt himself. The anger came in waves and left him exhausted and empty when it fled.

Harrison got off him. He sat on the other end of the junction, legs crossed, back straight, hands on his knees. He closed his eyes.

Meditating?

What a strange terrorist.

Free from Harrison's attention, Kirk eyed the medical kit and wondered if anything in it would cut deep enough to end things without Harrison's help.

Or perhaps he should not rob Harrison of the right to kill him however he liked.

Regardless, the thought of suicide didn't spur Kirk to action; the weights on his mind made him too lethargic.

Kirk could sense reminiscence creeping into the edges of his thoughts. He could not bear the bitterness of memories. So he talked.

"I didn't know you had a crew."

Kirk regretted the comment instantly. What a cruel thing to mention. Yet Harrison did not seem angered. He did not move, and his eyes stayed shut. But he did respond.

"You don't know anything about me, Kirk. I am not an agent of Starfleet. John Harrison does not exist."

Kirk scowled. Could he trust Harrison? He did, on this point at least. His claim added just one more puzzle piece that would not have fit Kirk's certain view of the world before today, like an insane admiral and people in torpedoes.

"So who are you?"

Harrison – or whoever he was – opened his eyes. His intense, dark stare drew Kirk in.

"My name is Khan."


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N: **Two months?! Ridiculous, I know. I moved at the end of July, unpacked in August, and was dealing with lots of other unpleasant personal stuff. I really hope that's all done with now so I can get back to what's important in life: escaping from it ;)

* * *

Khan heard the bones of the ship rattle as it went to warp. He took in a calming breath and dissolved his concerns in his exhale. Focus.

Soon the game would truly begin.

"We're at warp," Kirk said.

"Obviously."

Kirk looked like a man ten years older, and dirty, though Khan had cleaned blood and grime from his face twice that day. Any fight left in him had fled after Khan told him about Admiral Marcus's actions and his true identity. Kirk's belief system had crumbled to dust, his family gone, and the shock hadn't drained yet.

As the _Vengeance_ stuttered to life and limped home, Khan schemed. He could not stop himself; his blood pulsed with a thirst for conquest that even sorrow could not quench. It gave him purpose.

Khan shut his eyes and retreated into his mind. Starfleet must become his first victim. He would gut Starfleet's heart as it had gutted his. But when Khan had the _Vengeance, _and he had wiped the board clean, what then?

The more he kneaded his plans to consistency, the more realized he could use Kirk.

Ruling required a careful mixture of ruthlessness, mercy and control. Control meant propaganda. Khan had the reputation of a terrorist; the inferior humans would resist him. Fighting the populace of Earth, rebuilding the eugenics program and battling the Klingons at once might have worked if Khan had not lost his seventy-two companions. Alone, it would destroy him.

But Kirk. They saw Kirk as a hero, soon as a fallen hero. Starfleet would spin a legend of the captain's valiant battle against the Klingon menace. Kirk the martyr could come back from the dead in the confusion left by Starfleet's destruction. He could soothe the populace, perhaps serve as a temporary figurehead, and make the transition to Khan's rule easier.

If he cooperated.

Khan twitched at the idea of tolerating Kirk's existence for that long. It might take years for him to outlive his usefulness. Years of watching Kirk _breathe, _every breath borrowed since the moment he vaporized Khan's crew.

He heard clattering. He opened his eyes and saw Kirk rifling through the medical supplies.

"What are you doing?"

Kirk ignored him. Khan pursed his lips. Looking for drugs to ease the pain? Or –

He drew a scalpel out of the bag and held it in his palm.

Khan pushed himself to his knees. But Kirk rushed to press the scalpel against his own chest, near the heart. Their gazes met, and Khan paused at the severity he saw there. He ought to have removed sharp objects from Kirk's vicinity. But he hadn't thought Kirk would make any serious effort to end his own life.

Khan slowly poised himself to strike, but he didn't provoke Kirk by moving closer. Could he reach the scalpel before Kirk used it? Perhaps, but Kirk held the blade firm in hand. If his instability outweighed his survival instincts, Kirk might drive the blade in without hesitation.

Talking a man down from suicide did not count as a skill in Khan's repertoire. Just another form of manipulation, though.

"I did not think you would give up so easily."

"Easily?" Kirk laughed – broken, empty of hope. "What is there to stick around for? You? I can't even turn you in. This world is … I don't understand it anymore. Never did, I guess."

Khan could strike now while Kirk distracted himself with feelings. But the watery softness of his eyes, the tight grip of his hand on the scalpel like he had nothing else – these dragged Khan down with uncertainty. Why did Kirk trouble him so?

How could he let this dim reflection of his pain pierce his heart?

These emotions served no purpose! He could not bring his people back. He wanted to suppress his loss beneath the weight of plans, but Kirk unravelled him with a glance.

How dangerous you are, Captain.

"We feel the same pain." Khan did not know what to say, yet words tumbled from his mouth. "I don't know how to stop it. But this hole –" he grasped his own chest near the heart, root of all his trouble "– it can only be filled by vengeance. Victory against the enemy."

"What enemy? Marcus is dead."

"Marcus did not build this ship alone."

Kirk flinched, and Khan launched himself at him.

He pushed Kirk to the floor and pinned his wrist. The captain struggled – good, some fight left in him. He felt Kirk's chest heave with effort beneath him, watched his teeth clench. The anger switched on again. Khan liked it. Anger he could work with.

"There are others," he told Kirk as he writhed beneath him. "I don't know their names. But with Marcus gone, the powers behind him will reveal themselves."

"Why should I trust you?"

"You shouldn't trust anyone. There isn't anyone left to trust. Think about it yourself. You know I'm right."

Kirk paused in his struggles.

Khan watched Kirk deliberate. No one truly wanted to die. If he offered Kirk a way out, he would take it. He'd seen the spark of a survivor in him. It only needed rekindling.

"Join me to root out the corruption at Starfleet's core. To honor those we've lost."

"No."

Kirk bucked underneath him. A disappointed glower crossed Khan's face.

Kirk's lips formed into a smirk. "But maybe I'll let you join me."

Khan grinned, and he allowed Kirk to throw him off.

Finally Kirk showed some value. Breaking him in might prove entertaining after all.


End file.
